The Opera Ghost
by This.Is.SCRUMPTIOUS
Summary: The students of the Viola Studio of Dance were given a surprise; a trip to France and a chance to be choreographed by one of the greatest ballet instructors. They stay in the dorms of an Opera house, and a student is lucky enough to discover its mysteries
1. Chapter 1

The buses pulled up to the old opera house, and the large amount of screaming girls contained within the long, grey vehicles screamed vigorously at its massive size and elegance. The bus doors creaked open and they all came rushing out like a stampede of anxious and ambitious ballet dancers. If their instructor, Mademoiselle LaViola, had not pulled out her infamous whistle and blew in it, causing them all to halt and cover their ears, the opera house would have surely seen destruction and devastation.

"Ladies!" Mademoiselle called out, giving out a stern expression to each and every one of them. "We are in one of the world's most famous and historical landmarks in all of Europe! You are supposed to be calm, elegant and graceful dancers, and yet you are all screaming like a bunch of boy band fan girls!"

The young ladies bowed their heads in shame, but still sent impatient glances at the magnificent building before them.

Only one girl remained on the bus, and this girl happened to be the only one in the group of ballet dancers that was not excited in the least. Instead, she held a nervous and loathing look on her face, and slowly trudged off the bus with her carry-on bag in hand. Once off, she glanced at the building and admired it apprehensively. Sure, it was beautiful, built in the early 18th century, almost immediately after the end of the French Revolution. It had many magnanimous arches and pillars, with golden statues at each corner of the building, statues of half-naked women holding a single piece of cloth in their hands and trying to shield themselves innocently. The girl glared at the statues childishly.

'No one is like that anymore,' she thought to herself sadly, a sigh escaping out through her nose. 'No one is innocent or lovely and pure on the inside like that anymore.'

"Liana!" Mademoiselle shouted out at the girl in a chastising tone. "Venez ici, maintenant!"

Having taken two years of French herself, Liana did as the instructor said and quickly ran to the group of the girls who all sneered at her haughtily.

"Now, I want all of you ladies to go back to your travel buses and gather up your things," she commanded to them, standing properly with her head held high.

Mademoiselle LaViola was not a terrible teacher; in fact, she was quite talented and an amazing ballet instructor. She taught all of the girls' routines for the past 11 years, and all of the girls adored her. Naturally, she was strict in class. You had to be; otherwise the girls would not take it seriously, something very key to the art of ballet. But outside of the studio, she was friendly and fun.

"Then, you will head up the stairs where the owner will meet you and show you to your dorms," she informed them, her posture not faltering.

The young girls nodded their bun-clad heads and rushed off to their busses, making sure to collide into Liana as they did so.

Liana was not like all of the other girls. She was nowhere near a ballerina, but she was indeed a dancer. She had always hated the fact that, whenever someone heard the title, 'dancer,' they immediately thought of ballet, when there were in fact many other styles of dance. For example, there was Irish dancing, tap dancing, hip hop, lyric, jazz, clogging, even Indian Ritual dancing. Liana was a hip hop and a tap dancer, hence the reason why the other girls despised her.

She moaned, pivoted around back towards the direction in which she came, and leaned against the side of the bus casually, awaiting her turn to enter and gather her things.

Liana's father had always told her that she had the legs of a ballerina dancer. It was true; her legs were indeed long and muscular, but she could never find herself enjoying it as much as she did hip hop and tap. She had only taken two and a half years of ballet (two dance seasons and one summer session), but that was three years ago.

She had long, golden brown hair and a round, somewhat chubby face (thanks to the Polish side of her family). Liana had hazel eyes (thanks to the Italian side of her family) that she had come to admire, the only thing that she admired about herself. She was tall, about 5'6", and had a slender body that she wished, just like every other girl in the world, was perfectly flat.

Finally, the girls had exited the bus, allowing Liana her chance at retrieving her two suitcases. They were waiting for her towards the back of the bus in one of the elevated compartments above the seats. She grabbed them and pulled her down, and followed the rest of the girls into the building.

Inside, an older, but not quite old, woman waited them at the bottom of the grand staircase. But she wasn't what caught the girls' attention; it was the room that they stood in. The floors and staircase were pure white marble, and there were statues just like, to Liana's distaste, the ones that stood outside. The ceiling was covered in murals of angels mixed into splashes of red and greens and blues. In the center, there was a colossal chandelier, covered in millions of dangling crystals. There were three layers to it, and, about a foot apart, there were electric candles along the rails.

"Bienvenue à L'Opera de Magie," the woman greeted with a sharp French accent. "Or, welcome to zee Opera of Magic. Zis magnificent structure waz built in 1800, immediately after the French Revolution, by orderz of Napoleon Bonaparte, for iz entertainment uze. My name iz Madame Bellamont, and I will be zowing you your roomz."

She ascended up the white marble staircase and directed us to a large room with about fifty or so beds in it. Immediately, the girls ran for the best bed next to their friends. Liana, having no friends with her, walked down the catwalk of beds towards the back, where there were four free beds. She took the last one on the right, next to a large mirror with golden trims. She sat her suitcases on the ground and her carry-on on the bed, and began unpacking her clothes into the small armoire on the right side of her bed.

Liana dug into her carry-on bag and pulled out her blue iPod, and slipped the headphones into her ears, clicking on her favorite song in the world: Past the Point of No Return, from the Phantom of the Opera movie. She loved the movie so much, and had even seen the play multiple times, which was one of the reasons why she decided to come with her dance studio's ballet troupe to France; to see an actual opera house. She didn't care about the French romance, or the croissants, but the opera house.

The rest of the girls were chatting away on top of each other's beds, picking out outfits to wear when they got their chance to go site-seeing, when Madame Bellamont opened the door and asked us to enter into the auditorium. The girls filed out and stared once again in awe at the splendid auditorium where they would be performing at the end of their week-long stay in Paris. Liana, of course, sat in the back with no one around her.

It was the same welcoming speech that she had given when they had first entered not half an hour ago, the only difference being that they were each handed a schedule.

8:00 am-10:00 am Ballet Rehearsal with Madame Bellamont  
10:00 am-11:00 am Free Time  
11:00 am-12:30 pm Lunch  
1:00 pm-3:00 pm Ballet Rehearsal with Mademoiselle LaViola  
3:00 pm-4:00 pm Free Time  
4:00 pm-7:00 Site-Seeing as a group/Dinner  
7:00 pm-8:00 am Bed

"Anyone that is found out of bed in between these hours will receive a warning," Mademoiselle LaViola warned the girls. "The second time, you will be sent straight home."

"Zis opera houze az many strange secrets," Madame Bellamont mused, looking up at the rafters with a knowing expression. "It would be wize not to break any of zeese rules."

"Ahem, alright then, dancers," Mademoiselle announced after a minute of awkwardness. "It is currently 8:30. Please return to your dorms and be ready for breakfast at 7:00 sharp. Bonne nuit."

The dancers in the auditorium retreated to the dorms in an "orderly fashion," with Liana close behind. She was the last to leave, seeing that nobody cared. She gazed curiously at the rafters, wondering exactly what Madame was talking about. Seeing that nothing was there, she shrugged and followed the other dancers backstage and to the dorms.

********

Liana couldn't sleep. She was in a strange place surrounded by people that didn't like her, and she could hear someone walking around somewhere, for their footsteps could be heard echoing throughout the nearly-empty opera house.

She debated long and hard inside her head, and finally came to a conclusion. She threw her plain white blankets up in the air so that they floated down to her side, and slipped on a pair of grey slippers. She tiptoed passed all of the sleeping girls and out into the dark hall, secretly thankful that she had brought a flashlight. She reached her destination, the auditorium, and ran up onto the glorious stage. Liana set the flashlight onto the front of the stage so that it lit up only a small section of it.

She silently walked to the center of the stage and looked out into her pretend audience. Slowly, she kicked her leg up into a grand battement, and slowly released it downwards.

In her spare time, Liana liked to pretend that she was up on stage with the rest of the girls at her studio, a ballerina. She admired those girls for their strength and abilities.

She turned to her right in a chaînés, and then into a capezio leap. Well, she attempted to do a capezio leap, but ended up falling on her butt. A moan escaped from her lips, and she stood up and brushed off her white pajamas. She hoped that no one had heard her, but to her misfortune, someone did.

"No, no, NO!" someone called out from the rafters.

Liana gasped and looked around worriedly, wondering who was speaking to her. Judging by the tone of the voice, it was a man, and an annoyed one at that.

"You do two chaînés," he commanded, emphasizing the number. "And the second one needs to be in plié!"

The girl hesitated before answering, "Excuse me, but, but who are you?"

"Don't ask questions!" he yelled out, sounding, if it was even possible, even angrier, causing Liana to jump. "Do as you are told!"

She swallowed and shook her head, as if to try to wake herself up, but to no avail. She was indeed awake, and there was indeed a man yelling at her to do to chaînés and the second in plié before doing her capezio leap.

"You're trying my patience, girl," he growled out, and Liana glared at the invisible figure in the rafters.

"Sorry," she began sarcastically. "But I haven't had much experience in ballet. It was only for fun."

"Was that your first time ever attempting a capezio leap?" he asked curiously after a moment of silence.

She nodded her head.

"Hm," the voice said.

"What?"

"You actually have potential," he told her, his voice thoughtful, and Liana felt a tiny bit flattered. "Are you one of the dancers with the Viola Studio of Dance?"

"Yes," she answered, wondering why he was interrogating her, and why she was answering these trivial questions. "But I'm only in hip hop and tap."

He snorted as a response.

"They're both styles of dances, just as ballet is," Liana called out, crossing her arms. "Who are you anyways to judge me?"

"You need a teacher," he said, avoiding her question. "And you are only here for a week. That doesn't give me much time."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Liana stopped him, slowly stepping back to where the steps were calling out to her to run. "I do NOT need you to teach me anything. I have no skill in ballet technique at all! And you still haven't told me who you are yet!"

There was no response.

"Hello?" Liana yelled out. "Hey, where'd you go?"

She sighed and shook her head. She assumed that it was probably someone that worked here who was playing a joke on her. But the joke did give her a sense of hope.

Yawning, she was satisfied to know that her little venture had made her tired. She went back to her dorms and tried to forget about the event that just took place.

But for some reason, she couldn't.

********

"But monsieur!" Madame Bellamont pleaded. "She 'az no ballet experience, only zis 'ip 'op and tap. Surely one of zee other girlz 'ere have more-"

"Enough, madame," the man silenced her, his masked face glaring at her. "I've seen her try. She has spirit. There is something about her that I need to complete myself. She is perfect."

"Are you sure, monsieur?" she attempted to dissuade him again.

"Yes, madame," he answered her, gazing out at the young girl sleeping in her bed.

She looked so calm, so peaceful, so...beautiful. She was indeed perfect.

"You are to inform Monsieur Amaury that I have found my pupil," he commanded.

"And what about 'er instructor?"

"Tell her, but be discreet and vague," he told her, not taking her eyes off of the Liana. "I don't want her to know too much about my plan. About my angel. Now go."

"Yes, monsieur," Madame Bellamont answered with a bow of her head, and head down the tunnel to the opera houses' owner, Monsieur Amaury, to tell him the news. She wondered whether this was a good idea or not, but Monsieur Amaury did promise Him that He could teach any pupil that He deemed worthy of His instruction. She only hoped that He made the right choice.

"Tomorrow, my angel," He whispered, reaching out and touching the wall separating them. "We will begin your training."


	2. Chapter 2

At exactly 7:00 am the following day, numerous alarm clocks and cell phones rang out in various tunes and bells, waking the sleeping dancers in the dorm. The girls moaned groggily, not wanting to be disturbed by the loud noises, but also knew that strict punishment would be waiting for them if they were not dressed and ready to dance in the auditorium by 8:00.

Liana sighed from her bed in the back. Even though she did not have much experience with ballet, she knew that she had to take all of the classes as well. It was part of the agreement that her and Mademoiselle LaViola had come up with. She pushed her covers off of her and scratched her head sleepily, knowing that she needed a brush in a bad way.

"Nice hair." Liana heard someone say, but could not be sure of who exactly said it: there were many girls in the room, and they all looked at her with disdain.

Liana ignored the comment, and made her way over to her armoire, pulling open its wooden drawers and pulling out her old black leotard and pink tights. The required uniform for ballet, and the only thing that Mademoiselle would allow in her studio.

Next was the bun, and, thankful that Mademoiselle allowed hair nets to keep in stray hairs, Liana took out her brush and stood in front of the mirror. She put her hair into a high ponytail, and then wrapped it tightly around itself, forming a messy, but acceptable bun. The hairnet was wrapped around it, and was soon followed by many bobby pins. A few minutes later, she stared at herself triumphantly and satisfactorily, proud of what she had accomplished.

Once she was finished, she found that it was 7:48, and made her way, like many other girls in the room, to the door at the end of the hall. Liana merged into the already awaiting crowd in the hallway, where Madame Bellamont was waiting patiently with her head held high. She appeared to be looking for a particular student and, figuring that it was most definitely not her, Liana walked to the back of the crowd.

"Ms. Liana Erikson?" Madame called out, and Liana stopped dead in her tracks.

_Me?_ She wondered to herself, staring at the ground in awe. _What could she want with me?_

Liana turned around and bit her lip. "Yes, Madame Bellamont?"

"You will not be attending my lesson," she told her, pursing her lips as if it was the last thing that she wanted.

Liana felt slightly relieved, but also curious. Why was she not allowed to take her class?

"You will follow me to where you will be taking private lessons," she began, then turned her head to the rest of the girls who were all glaring at Liana with insane jealousy. But Liana was sure they were all thinking the same thing as she was; why her? "The rest of you will continue on into zee auditorium, vere you will go onto zee stage and vait for me. If any of you are caught doing anything deemed inappropriate, you vill be sent 'ome. Immediately."

The girls nodded their heads, showing that they understood, but also showing that they did not like it.

"Good." Madame made her way over to the girl she singled out and stared down her nose at her. "Follow moi."

Liana did as she was told, and did not dare turn around, for she was afraid that one of the girls would throw something at her. Instead, she stared at her feet and at the white marble, until it turned into aging brown wood. She looked up at Madame.

"Excuse me, Madame." She added the Madame part at the last second. "But, where exactly are you taking me? And why me? Is this about last night? If it is, I am sorry-"

"You 'ave been chosen over zee dozens of girls 'ere to perform a special ballet piece at next weekend's recital," Madame told her, avoiding Liana's questions. "You will be instructed by one of zee greatest ballet teachers of our time."

Liana had an inkling that Madame was referring to the man who had chastised her last night.

They began climbing dusty wooden stairs to an upstairs floor that liana did not know the building even had. Madame Bellamont pulled out an old iron key and placed it into the lock, which clicked and allowed her to push open the creaky door.

"In," she instructed, but did not follow Liana inside.

"Madame?" Liana asked, trying not to let her fear get to her.

What fear, you may ask? The fear of being locked up in the same room as some strange man who had been watching her the night before.

"I vill come and get you at 11 o'clock for lunch," she told her.

"But that is three hours!" Liana complained. "All of the other girls only have two!"

"You need more instruction than zee other girls," she retorted, then shut the door, leaving her all alone in the room to wait for this man.

But she did not know that, just like last night, a man was watching her from the shadows, seeing what she could do.

He watched as she took a deep breath, her small chest moving up and down as she did so. She rolled her shoulders and head around, and then proceeded to the bar against the wall across from the large mirror that overtook the wall.

Liana took a good look at her surroundings. It was an old room, more like an attic than a dance room. Bare wooden revealed itself along the walls, and in the corner there were two small, stained glass windows that stood perpendicular to each other, creating a mural of colors onto the floor. She put her hand on the metal practice bar and pulled her leg onto the top bar to stretch it out. Once done with her left leg, she moved on to her right. Liana had never understood it, but she was always much more flexible on her left leg than her right, and therefore preferred to stretch the left one first. She assumed that it was because she was right handed, and so her right side was more dominant than her left. Although, that would not explain why she could only do cartwheels on her left side.

The girl slid her way down to the floor and tried her splits, starting wither her left leg. She was notably closer to the ground on her left one than her right.

The man's heart almost stopped when he heard her begin to hum the overture to the Phantom of the Opera, for it was by far his favorite musical of all time. He could listen to it forever. Not to mention the likeness between he and the story's main character.

Liana stood up and was thoughtful for a moment, until she suddenly turned into preparation for a chaîné. She did two, but performed the second one in plié, which lead into a nearly perfect capezio leap. Her form was a little shabby, but it was definitely a step up from her one from the previous night.

The girl seemed so surprised that she did not fall, that when she landed, she stared at the mirror, shocked.

"Brava, mon cher." The praise echoed through the room, causing Liana to jump, quite visibly. "Do not be afraid. I am your new teacher. Let us begin this lesson."

Liana recognized the voice as the man from last night.

"Um, sir," she began, unsure of what to call this mysterious man and not wanting to offend him. "I have a couple of questions before we begin."

"Make them quick," he told her impatiently. "And you shall address me as Monsieur Fantôme."

"Monsieur Fantôme," Liana whispered to herself quietly, knowing exactly what it meant in French. It was a cognate. "Ahem, well, first of all, why me?"

"Because, girl, as I said before," he began, his tone not changing. It was as if he expected the question. "You have potential. At the moment, you are just a small bird, waiting for its chance to fly. I will be the one to give you your wings."

The girl seemed taken back. What he said sounded like pure poetry. If she could have seen his face, she was sure that his eyes would have been glassy.

"Oh," she said lamely, but continued on anyway. "Well, are you ever going to show yourself to me?"

There was no response.

"If so," she continued, her voice getting quieter. "Then how do you propose that you are going to teach me? I am not very good with technical terms…"

"If a time comes where you do not understand what I am trying to teach you," he finally said. "Then I will call over Madame Bellamont. She will assist me when she is done with those…[i]other[/i] girls."

Liana remained silent for the remainder of the lesson, and tried her best to listen to Monsieur Fantôme's instructions. She had not been fully truthfully with her teacher; yes, it would be hard trying to perform everything he told her to, but she also wanted to see what he looked like. His voice sounded so dark, so mysterious, so…intriguing. She would ask again, but later. She was sure that he was eager to begin her lessons.

The lesson had finished after three, long hours, and Liana was exhausted. Her leotard was drenched in sweat, and her arms and legs were wobbly from all of the exercises. She was surprised at how patient he was with her, compared to how impatient he had been before. He talked to her kindly, and gently, but most certainly did not take it easy on her.

Liana reached for the door knob once he had dismissed her, but was stopped.

"Tell no one about this," Monsieur Fantôme told her strictly and fiercely. "You are to tell anyone that asks that I am another ballet instructor, teaching you exercises. No shall know about me beside from you and Madame Bellamont."

"Yes, Monsieur," the shy girl promised, bowing her head.

And then she left.

Liana did not know what to think of her new teacher. He was brilliant, indeed. The way he would explain to her how to hold her leg a certain way, or exactly where to hold my hand just the right way so that it looks graceful, yet comfortable, was quite amazing. This man could explain anything to her. But there was also something odd about him. The way he talked to her seemed almost…loving, at times.

_Of course, it must be just me imagining things again. I do like to fantasize._

Naturally, when she returned to her dorm, the girls had been curious, but were not willing to give up their pride and go up to Liana and ask her about her private lessons. Instead, the all stared at her curiously, as she walked past them all. Liana changed quickly and self-consciously, facing the mirror, aware that the other girls were still watching her. She was happy to have fresh, clean, and dry clothes on when she headed off to lunch, but realized that there was another snag to her happiness; where was she going to sit? Obviously, none of the girls here were going to want to be anywhere near her. She supposed that the small table in the corner of the cafeteria would have to do.

Liana went to the end of the lunch line, holding a tray to her chest nervously. She was hoping that they would have food that she liked. When it was finally her turn, the lady behind the counter glanced at her, and then did a double take. She dropped the ladle in her hand full of…Liana didn't quite know what it was, but she dropped it and it landed with a 'sploosh.'

She returned a moment later with a bowl of salad and some slices of French bread. The old lunch lady held the tray back to her with shaky hands, and Liana took it cautiously. She did not know what to think of the event as she sat down alone at the table she had picked out beforehand, but when she sat down, she realized that underneath the napkin, mixed in with the plastic forks, was a small red rose that had yet to bloom. Tied around its center was a black ribbon, and she immediately knew who it was from.

_Monsieur Fantôme had arranged this. But why am I so special? I do not deserve such special treatment._

This made her want to see his face even more than she had before. She knew that she was his, and he was hers, their own little Phantom of the Opera story going on. But this was different. Liana had no Raoul.

Even though they had had only one session together, Liana knew that it would be long until this hidden man had captured her heart. His kind voice, his poetic heart, and his utter brilliance would pull her in. She only wished that she could see him, and hoped that there was not a huge age difference between them, as in the real story.

One could only hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I DO own this new guy…and Liana…and Madame Bellamont…and Mademoiselle LaViola…and all those other characters that you do not recognize. They're mine. And I keep them in my closet. It is very crowded in there. Enjoy!**

"You are almost there, ma chérie," the voice boomed down from above, goading Liana to go further and further down, despite all of the pain that it caused her, anticipation oozing off of his voice.

Why would he do this, you may ask? Why, it is because he knew that she could do it. He also knew that she needed the proper guidance in order to accomplish such a difficult task.

Beads of sweat slid down all sides of Liana's face as she forced herself to go lower and lower. She was almost there, she was so close. She knew that if she was able to do this, Monsieur Fantôme would be pleased with her, very pleased.

A drop of sweat slipped down her nose and slowly descended down to the floor, landing with a soft, almost nonexistent splash.

Liana heard a sigh, followed by a soft command.

"Enough," Monsieur Fantôme whispered quietly, and Liana collapsed onto the floor, her legs shaking beneath her.

"I am sorry, monsieur," she apologized softly, clenching her fists in anger. "Being a dancer, no matter the style, I should have already had my splits by now. I apologize."

"'Tis alright, child," he soothed her gently, hating to see her in so much pain, and anger. He wished so much to lie down beside her, and stroke her back until she was happy and at peace again. But he knew he could not. He cleared his throat, awakening himself from the fantasy. "Let's move on to the routine."

Liana took a deep breath and rose from the floor. It was only day three of her training, and she had already felt that she was a much better dancer than she was before. Thanks to Monsieur Fantôme's training, Liana was now able to do almost every basic ballet step imaginable. Not perfectly, of course, but well enough for the monsieur to be proud of her.

The routine that Monsieur Fantôme had been choreographing for her the past couple of days was to one of Liana's favorite songs of all time, "Past the Point of No Return," from The Phantom of the Opera. She had smiled when she had heard it playing in the room on her second day, when he announced his music choice. He thought that it fit the situation rather well, and so did she.

He had already taught Liana part of the routine as it was, only a few eight counts of the part where Christine sings.

"What about the part where the Phantom sings, monsieur?" Liana recalled herself asking the day before.

"That part is a surprise," he had told her, secretively. She could almost hear the smile in his voice, but was too timid to ask anything more.

Liana sat and waited for monsieur to fast-forward the song to right before Christine sings, and where the Phantom ended. Her heart fluttered as he heard the last verse being sung, and held her arms up in preparation to begin the routine.

Together, Liana and Monsieur Fantôme went through the choreography, she performing it to her best ability, and he stopping the music when she made a mistake or to correct something. Whenever Liana had made a mistake, he would not be angry or upset with her, but instead would politely correct her. She appreciated how kind he was to her.

Monsieur Fantôme finished her part of the routine, and once the music merged into the part where Christine and the Phantom began to sing together he stopped the song, and applauded her. Liana looked up into the old, wooden rafts and blushed, curtseying slightly.

"Wonderful, ma chérie," he said to her happily, and she could hear the floorboards creak weakly as he moved around. "You are done for today."

Liana breathed a sigh of relief; he had let her out early today, mostly as a reward for finishing the routine a day early.

"Thank you, Monsieur Fantôme," she thanked him, and walked over to the corner to grab her dance bag.

Liana was almost at the door when he called out to her to stop. She turned around and gazed curiously up at the ceiling.

"Liana," he began, quite reluctantly, she noticed. "Madame Bellamont has suggested that I bring in a, a young man to perform the, the beginning part of the song and also the end part…with you. He will be coming in tomorrow. The boy's name is Aiden Peirce."

Monsieur Fantôme heard her let out a small gasp.

"I believe that it would be safe to assume that you have heard of him?" he asked her pointedly, not a trace of amusement in his voice. Liana could sense the agitation in his strong voice. She was afraid to answer him.

"Er, yes, I have, monsieur," she quietly responded. "I have seen advertisements for some of the productions that he has been in, but I have never seen any. I have heard that he is a fantastic dancer."

Monsieur Fantôme could see the look of admiration on her face, despite the fact that she was looking down at the floor. She was embarrassed.

He did not like seeing her like this. He did not like seeing her fawn over some over man. Had she not realized yet that she was he? She was chosen out of all of the girls from her troupe to be his disciple, and she was going to throw that all away for some boy?

Monsieur Fantôme opened his mouth to say something again, but she had already left. Liana had assumed that when he was done talking, it was a cue for her to leave.

He paced around in his little attic space, not sure of what to do. He wanted to be the one to dance with her during the recital. He was originally going to perform it, which was why he was being so secretive with Liana. But Madame Bellamont had dissuaded him. It was such a passionate dance; he could not stand to see anyone else performing it with her other than himself. But he knew that he could not do it. He did not want to risk being seen by anyone. He did not want to have the same ending as the Phantom. But he also did not want her with that Aiden boy. He could ruin everything. Monsieur Fantôme slowly realized that this Aiden could be Liana's Raoul.

But he shook the thought away, when he remembered that Madame Bellamont had told him the boy had a terrible off-stage personality. This was part of the reason why he had chosen this boy. It was the only way he would agree to let her go.

******

Liana walked away in a daze. She had always been a secret admirer of Aiden Peirce, and now she had the chance to dance with him. It was like a dream come true for her. This entire experience had been a dream come true for her. She was dancing ballet, and really good at it, she had someone to talk to for once, and now she was going to dance to one of her favorite songs with one of her favorite dance idols. True, she had lied to monsieur. She had seen more than just advertisements of him.

In her room back home, she had dozens of magazines with him on the cover. He was so gorgeous, so passionate, it was hard for anyone not to fall in love with him at first sight.

She looked up in time to see herself about to walk into someone, and she stopped a second before collision.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "I was not looking where I was going."

The man turned around, and Liana froze. Her eyes grew wide and her heart began to pound as she saw her hero standing before her. He was just like all of the pictures she had seen of him: Perfect blond hair, grown slightly passed the ears, tall, slightly pale skin, emerald green eyes, and a lean, muscular body. She hoped and prayed to God that he was not gay.

"Well you should have been," he said to her shortly, giving Liana a quick look over and deciding that she wasn't worth his time. Liana blinked in surprise. She was not expecting such a rude comment coming from him, who had appeared to be so nice in the interviews she had seen him in. "I am looking for Madame Bellamont. I received a letter the other day telling her I am to dance with one lucky girl from Mademoiselle LaViula's Dance Academy."

His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

"Excuse me, but it is Mademoiselle LaViola's Dance Academy," she corrected him, pursing her lips and glaring at him. "And Madame Bellamont is in her office, on the second floor, third door on your right."

"Whatever." He took off for the staircase. Not even so much as a thank you or a smile.

Liana could not move. She had been so excited just seconds ago to see Aiden Peirce, and now that she finally had, he had crushed her dreams. He had treated her poorly simply because of the way she looked. Liana did not think that she was that ugly; she had been on a few dates. Granted the boys were no Abercrombie and Fitch models, but they were still living, breathing boys.

She reached up and touched her eye, for she had felt a tear escaping. She was crying. As much as she hated to admit it, Aiden Peirce had made her cry. Perhaps unintentionally, but his inconsideration for her feelings had hurt her nonetheless.

Liana made her way up to the second floor as well, but instead of going to the right, she turned to the left to go to the girl's dormitories, where she could be alone while the rest of the girls were still having their lessons.

After quietly making her way into the room, and closing the door softly behind her, she ran all the way to the back of the room where her bed awaited her with open arms. The only comfort that she wanted at the moment was her bed and her iPod. Of course, she changed out of her sweaty leotard and tights first and exchanged them for a pair of warm, flannel pajamas and an oversized shirt. She turned on her iPod and it the time read 6:32. The other girls would be back in 28 minutes, so Liana had plenty of time to get settled in and go soundly asleep. True, it was early, but one can only handle so much training. It was arduous.

********

Monsieur Fantôme looked at her through the glass wall; the one that everyone thought was an ordinary mirror. She was crying. What had happened to her between their lesson and now? The lesson could not have been too grueling; she had never cried before. Until now.

Her tears stabbed his heart, like tiny bullets. He could not stand to see her in such a state. Perhaps the practices were too much for her. He could ease off of her…but they needed to finish the routine immediately.

Monsieur Fantôme did not know what to do. He could not reveal himself to anyone, not even his angel. Another dilemma had taken place in his heart.

"Angel of music, guide and guardian."

Monsieur Fantôme's head snapped up as he heard some of his favorite lyrics. She was singing Angel of Music.

"Grant to me your, glory."

He almost cried himself.

A/N: Alright first author's note of the series. Well, sorry about the two emails. I had a slight typo and I just realized it as I was reading over it again. I fixed it, though. So yeah.

Thank you all so much for the positive feedback I have been receiving. I really like this story, and think that it is one of the best stories I have ever posted, so I am glad that you, my readers, have also enjoyed this work. I am a big fan of POTO, and have had this idea in my head for a while, and finally decided to do something about it. It is really turning out well.

Oh, and sorry about the beginning. When I wrote it, I did not realize that it could be taken the wrong way…darn you 21st century and your perverted mind! Sigh, oh well. So please, leave a review, and I will try to update as soon as possible. Thanks again!


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I DO own this new guy…and Liana…and Madame Bellamont…and Mademoiselle LaViola…and all those other characters that you do not recognize. They're mine. And I keep them in my closet. Enjoy!**

The first thing Liana heard when she woke up the next morning was the last thing that she had wanted to hear.

"Aiden Peirce!" one of the girls cried out. "He's here! Madame Bellamont was taking me to, ahem, her private lesson last night when I saw him walking down the hallway!"

Liana slowly raised herself onto her elbows and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. All of the girls in the room, besides Liana of course, had gathered themselves around a single girl, the one who had been talking previously.

"Ahuh!" she continued, all of the girls squealing about her. "He's just like in all of the photos I have seen! Blond hair, green eyes, and a body like a GOD!"

Liana shook her head and rolled her eyes, not impressed with the teenage, girlish immaturity of the lot of them. She grabbed her alarm clock that lied on her nightstand, and it read 7:02 am. Obviously that girl had been lying; a. the only girl who had private lessons was Liana. b. she wouldn't have waited until very early in the morning to tell everyone that Aiden Pierce was there. c. she had a record for lying. She was probably walking to the bathroom and she saw him.

Slowly, Liana rose out of her bed and reached toward the ceiling in an attempt to stretch out the numerous knots that had decided to take residence in the muscles of her back.

"I heard he gets to dance with one special girl," another girl added. "Just hope it's not, _her,_ again."

Liana knew very well who this 'her' was. They hadn't even bothered to keep their voices down. She was sure they had done it on purpose.

"Yeah, she doesn't deserve anymore special treatment."

She could feel fifty or so glaring eyes on her back. Liana decided that there would be one good thing that would come from dancing with the arrogant pig; she would get to see, once more, the jealous faces of the girls who already hated her so much.

_Then again_, she thought to herself, _this could be a liability._

Liana was dressed in a matter of minutes, having soon mastered the art of putting on the uniform of a ballet dancer, and made her way to the attic/dance room. She heard music playing, and she was afraid to enter. Instead, she pressed her ear closely to the door and listened to the familiar tune.

_Our games of make believe are at an end. Past all thought of if, or when. No use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend. _

She listened intently to the sweet, yet powerful voice of the phantom, and forgot that the door swung inward, and not outward. Liana fell into the room, landing with a slight 'thunk' on the old wooden planks. She was surprised that the floor did not give out on her.

The music stopped, and Liana slowly lifted her head and looked into the enchanting, and rather surprise-stricken eyes of Aiden.

"_This_ is the girl I am going to be dancing with?" he yelled into the air cynically, humiliating Liana with his very tone of voice. "She can barely stand without falling as it is. And plus, she has a problem with running into things."

Liana glared at him, and was not surprised when he did not help her off of the floor.

"You two have met?" Monsieur Fantôme's voice drizzled down from the ceiling. Liana could have sworn that he had sounded pleased with himself.

"Sadly yes, the klutz had run into me the night before," Aiden answered, sneering all the while. He crossed his arms and gave her another look over. "Quite literally."

"It's a mystery how I missed that enormous ego," Liana shot back, earning her a glare from her former idol.

"Now now, my child." Monsieur Fantôme chuckled. "Let's be nice to our new guest."

"Yeah, an unwanted guest," she murmured to herself, making sure that only Aiden had heard it. Which he did.

"Excuse me sir, but I will _not_ be tolerating this kind of childish insolence from such a, pathetic wannabe of a ballet dancer," Aiden ranted and insulted, as if he owned the place.

Monsieur Fantôme grew furious suddenly; the fool had insulted Liana. He was about to say something, when instead, he heard Liana shouting. He shut his mouth and listened to her beautiful, angelic voice.

"Listen here you arrogant piece of crap," Liana growled at him. One could practically see the hatred seething off of her brown hair. "You should _not_ go around judging people by the way they look. You should _not_ assume the dance stature of anyone just because you've won a few awards. And you will _not_ address him as 'sir.' You will address him as Monsieur Fantôme, you got it, buddy?"

Monsieur Fantôme could almost feel a tear in his eye. She was standing up for him. She was fighting for him. Liana was a small, pink, blooming flower, blossoming into a fiery red rose, thorns expelling themselves in defense.

The boy simply gaped at her. It was quite obvious that no one had ever spoken to him that way before.

"Monsieur Fantôme?" Liana suddenly called out purely, looking up innocently at the ceiling. "Fast forward to the Christine part."

He silently obeyed, not willing to cross her. Not that he would, anyway.

Aiden leaned up against the bar, facial expression still the same.

Liana began to dance. She turned, she leaped, she lunged, she danced. She was the most amazing thing that Monsieur Fantôme had ever seen. Of course, he had seen her dance before. Then, she had been dancing merely to impress Monsieur Fantôme, but now, she danced to prove the foolish boy wrong, she danced because she loved to do it, she danced with a passion. One could see the zealous expression on her face. She was quite the spectacle, dancing as seductively as the devil, yet as purely as an angel.

Monsieur Fantôme did not even notice when the song had ended. All he saw was her fervent face, dripping with sweat.

******

Aiden had never seen anyone dance so beautifully, well, other than himself of course. Even she rivaled him in grace, but she won in purity, in innocence. She was the girl he had been searching for his entire life.

She was beautiful. Maybe not in the way he had originally wanted, but there was something about her that was pure.

She was perfect for the role of Christine.

******

When Liana had finished, she was out of breath. She fell to the floor, for her legs had given out on her. She wished she could do the same, but did not wish to give the satisfaction to Aiden.

But she need not worry about that no longer. Aiden's heart had softened towards her, ever since he had seen her dance.

Liana felt an arm on her back, and saw a hand in front of her face. The hand of a man, and the touch of a loving one. Her heart stopped for a brief second. Surely, Aiden would not be helping her right now. It must be Monsieur Fantôme.

She eagerly looked up into the soft face of…Aiden. And her face dropped and her heart sank. She had dearly wanted to see _his _face.

"That was…" Aiden began to say, but he could not finish his sentence. "I am, er, very excited to dance with you."

He suddenly had turned into a nervous young man. He did not know what was wrong with him.

They stayed there, starring into each other's eyes. Well, more like one starring and the other glaring. Liana was not ready to get up yet, and she did not want Aiden's help.

"Just dance," Liana managed to breathe out. "Sha-show me what you got."

Aiden nodded his head and made his way to the center of the room, while Liana crawled her way over to the side of the room. Monsieur Fantôme only had eyes for Liana, but reluctantly played the music from the beginning.

Surprisingly, Aiden had at least thirty seconds of his part of the song finished. Liana assumed that they had either choreographed last night, or this morning. She was wondering why Aiden had accepted Monsieur Fantôme so easily.

Liana knew that Aiden was a fantastic dancer, and this was no different now. He leaped, he spun, he danced. He was amazing. Liana did not want to hate him, not after seeing him dance this close, and only for her eyes. Well, her eyes and Monsieur Fantôme's eyes.

When he was finished, he bowed slightly and bashfully, starring straight at Liana. Monsieur Fantôme could not help but notice what was happening between these two students, and instantly regretted ever having let Madame Bellamont dissuade him from letting himself dance with Liana.

"Ahem, let's begin the part where you two dance together," he said reluctantly, closing his eyes. He could feel a stabbing pain in his heart, and knew he was doing it to himself. "We can complete your part of the routine later, Monsieur Pierce."

The two on the floor below him simply nodded their heads, as if in a daze.

******

It was lunchtime, and Liana made her way to her room to get changed, followed by a love-struck Aiden Pierce.

"You're a lovely dancer," he complimented her…again. He could not stop staring at her, and flattering her, obviously.

"Er, thank you…again," she answered, rather annoyed. They reached the door to the girl's dorms. "Well, I must go get changed now. I advise that you do that as well. You don't want to eat lunch in a leotard, now do you?"

His ballet-shoe-clad feet did not move. Instead, his torso leaned closer to her, until she was almost pinned against the door. He grinned at her cockily, and she saw his eyes start to close.

As many times as she had dreamed of this moment, she did not want it to happen. Not now, not after all that has happened. Right now, her former crush on Aiden Peirce was like…like a ten-year-old's crush on Robert Pattinson. She now had a crush on a much greater man.

But despite all of that, she could not help but shiver in pleasure at the mere idea of this happening. She could not help but take a deep breath, nor could she help wanting to lean in closer.

Just as his lips reached her, and she could feel his body heat, Liana quickly opened the door and slipped into the girl's dorms. She could hear the 'thunk' of Aiden against the door, and she giggled.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, not angrily, but amused. "Alright, then I'll see you at lunch. I'll save you a seat."

Liana slid down the door in exasperation. Not because the lesson was too much for her; no, his charm was too much or her.

"Why does he have to be so damn perfect?" she moaned to herself quietly, thankful that everyone else was already at lunch.

Liana sucked it up quickly, and changed into her regular clothes, glad to be rid of the sweaty leotard and tights. Not because she wanted to see Aiden. No, of course not. She was just really hungry. Yes, hungry.

******

"Hey, Liana!" Liana heard a voice call out her name as soon as she had entered the cafeteria. She looked over and saw Aiden situated at the most populous table, surrounded by a majority of the girls from her troupe. There was one vacant seat located at his right hand side.

Aiden was calling her over, his right arm waving to her and his left draped over the shoulders of one of the girls. Liana closed her eyes and shook her head. He still was a cocky idiot. She walked into where the food was being served and grabbed her usual plate of salad and a glass of apple juice. Monsieur Fantôme's orders, of course.

Liana walked to her usual, empty table, and set her tray down, not even glancing at Aiden. He was starring at her incredulously. She had rejected him, _twice_ now.

He blew out his nose, and made his way over to her, making sure that none of her admirers were following behind.

"I, er, saved you a seat," he told her casually, pulling out the chair next to her and straddling it.

"I prefer to sit here, thank you very much," she answered just as casually. "I don't know about you, but I'm not a big fan of some of those girls. Well, all of those girls, actually."

"Oh come now," he said, looking at her skeptically. "If you're with me, they'll love you. Come on."

He grabbed her arm, and she yanked it back, glaring at him.

"I am also not a big fan of people who try to get others to do something that they don't want to do," she growled at him with the same ferocity as she had in the attic earlier that day. "Besides, they'll only pretend to love me. On the inside, they all hate me."

Aiden looked behind him at the table, and just saw a table full of jealous and catty girls.

"Christ, what did you do to them?" he asked her, thinking that this was obviously all Liana's fault.

"Nothing." Was all she said.

She ate the rest of her food in silence, as an awe-struck Aiden Peirce sat starring at her. She was full of surprises.

When she had finished, she picked up her tray and returned it to the kitchen. She found after returning that Aiden was still sitting there, and still starring at her chair, which was not occupied with the girls in her troupe, all trying to get his attention.

Once again, she shook her head, and returned to the girl's dorms where she changed into a fresh leotard, only allowing one tear to slide down her cheek.

**A/N: Well hello there guys! Thank you to everyone that has been reviewing. I am sad to say that there will only be one more chapter. I told you in the beginning that it was going to be short, and well, so it is. The final chapter holds the routine and the Liana's fate. Who will she choose? The dashing, good-looking, Raoul, Aiden? Or the mysterious, genius, and quiet Phantom, Monsieur Fantôme? Only the next and final chapter will tell us! Keep reading, and keep reviewing! Thank you all sooooo much! Oh, and tell me who YOU think Liana should choose. I am interested in your guys' opinion. Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! Happy New Year!**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I DO own this new guy…and Liana…and Madame Bellamont…and Mademoiselle LaViola…and all those other characters that you do not recognize. They're mine. And I keep them in my closet. Enjoy!**

Aiden was in his room, getting ready. Madame Bellamont had placed him in a vacant dorm, so he was the only one in there. He felt quite lonely, and longed for the accompaniment of Liana. He felt like she was the one for him; she was perfect. She was a beautiful dancer, and she was different from any other girl he had ever met. Girls usually just fawned over his good looks, but not Liana. No, Liana was different.

It was the night of the grand recital. The routine was finished, and Aiden was getting ready. He had on a black leotard with a white, puffy shirt over it. Monsieur Fantôme wanted him to wear a black jacket over the combo as well, but they found that it was too heavy. AKA, hard to dance in.

Aiden could not help but remember what Liana's costume was, and how amazing she looked in it. It was almost an exact replica of Christine's outfit from The Phantom of the Opera, except instead of a long skirt, it was a tutu, covered with many colored fabrics. He saw the small grey light that filtered through the small window shine on Liana's pale, smooth skin, peaking out on her shoulders, and he longed to touch it. Just to see if it was as smooth as it looked.

"I love it, Monsieur Fantôme," Liana had exclaimed, twirling around in the room. Aiden could hear the admiration in her voice, and not for the dress. "Did you create this yourself?"

"Yes, I did, ma chere," Monsieur answered. Once again, Aiden heard that tone again. "As well as being a gifted dancer and choreographer, I am also a fantastic seamstress. I have been working on these for awhile now."

Liana stared happily at the ceiling, almost in a way that some of Aiden's admirers had stared at Aiden.

Aiden slammed his fist on the wall of his dorm. She loved him, and he could not bear that. How could she love someone she could not see? Someone she has only heard? Indeed, that did make him seem more mysterious, but even so. At least he, Aiden, was tangible.

He took a deep breath and made his way to the door. He reached out for the old, bronze handle when suddenly, something covered his mouth. He struggled against his attacker, but he or she was very strong. The last thing he remembered was someone trying to take his shirt off, and himself thinking,

_Damn fan girls_.

~( )~

Liana woke with a start.

_Surely, that was not a dream_, she wondered to herself.

She looked around the room, obviously looking for someone. But she was the only one there. She let out a long, drawled out sigh, and wiped the sleep from her eyes. The alarm clock on her nightstand read 4:23. The performance started at 7.

Monsieur Fantôme had urged her to get some sleep before the performance, which had been two hours ago. Liana doubted that she would be able to fall back asleep, but she dearly wanted to; now she was going to have to wait for a whole hour and a half to get ready. But it was better than waking up too late.

Liana sat herself up on her bed so that her feet were dangling, and tried to recall the dream she had been having. It was a beautiful, peaceful dream, and she was angry with herself for waking up.

She had seen him. She had been with him. They were somewhere, underneath the opera house, perhaps, for there were cave walls surrounding them. They had simply being staring each other, taking in what the other looked like. Liana was wearing her tutu, and Monsieur Fantôme was wearing Aiden's costume.

He looked just like she had always imagined he would. Not exactly like the phantom, no, Monsieur Fantôme had brown hair that was slightly curled. He was face was strong, and bold, but beautiful all at the same time. He had deep, sea blue eyes, and a friendly, yet intimidating smile, something Liana feared and adored all at the same time. He was not wearing a mask; his face was perfect. Beautiful. Smooth. Pale. Wonderful. He appeared to look about 20, give or take a few years.

The dream Liana had heard a noise behind her, and Aiden was standing in the doorway, breathing heavily, as if he had been running for a long time. He looked at Liana, with the saddest expression she had ever seen, and it had hurt her, hurt her more than she ever thought it could. She felt something wet drip down her cheek, and she touched her face to discover that it was a tear. She had shed a tear.

And then she woke.

Liana shivered as she remembered the sensation that she felt when she was staring into Monsieur Fantôme's eyes, and felt a stab in her heart when she saw Aiden. Who did she love?

She wanted to say Monsieur Fantôme, of course, but she could not. Aiden was still there in the back of her mind. Liana punched her pillow in frustration. She had remembered herself, only a few months ago, wishing that something like this would happen to her, and now she was regretting ever making that wish. It just hurt too much.

The clock now read 4:30, and Liana sighed. She pulled out her iPod, and turned on _Past the Point of No Return,_ and went through the routine in her mind, again and again.

~( )~

Liana paced up and down the curtains, eagerly looking over to see if Aiden was in his wing yet, but it did not appear to be so.

Madame Bellamont came up to her, and told her to relax.

"Du calme, du calme!" she soothed in the French language. "It will be alright."

"I'm not so sure, Madame," she whispered to her, sensing her quivering voice. "Oh, where _is_ he?"

"I'm sure he will be here, ah!" she exclaimed, breathing a sigh of relief. Across the stage was Aiden, in his costume. He was wearing his skeleton-like mask, so it was hard to see his expression, but he was definitely staring right at Liana.

"Zere he iz!" Madame Bellamont cried, rubbing her temple. "Now we _must_ begin."

Madame grabbed one of the stage hand's headsets and gave the ok to the sound booth.

"Wait, Madame!" she called out to her superior. Madame Bellamont had reluctantly, and impatiently, paused for Liana. "Is he…here? Is he watching?"

Liana bit her lip and anxiously awaited Madame's answer. She grimaced.

"'e usually sits in that box, over there." She pointed to the box across the stage, and it was empty. "Je suis desolee, mon enfant. I have no idea about his whereabouts."

Liana sighed to herself, but the lights dimmed, and Liana walked out onto the stage, with her basket of roses.

Oh how her heart pounded. Nothing could explain what she was feeling right now. Anxiety, excitement, nervousness, and so many more feelings were jumbled up inside of her like vegetables in a chicken pot pie.

She sat down on the stage floor, crossing her feet next to her, and began to pretend to pull the thorns off of her roses.

Monsieur Fantôme had cut the music so that it would begin as soon as the Phantom began to sing, so I heard the familiar tune.

_You have come here…_

The song continued and Liana pretended to be distracted by the roses. That is, until Aiden did something unexpected, and not part of the choreography. He brushed his hand across her neck, and up around her face, turning Liana's head along with it. Instead of seeing emerald green eyes, she saw deep, sea blue, and her heart stopped. It was him. It was Monsieur Fantôme.

As quickly as he had come, he whipped towards the back of the stage, performing the routine as choreographed, with Liana staring after him, longing apparent in her eyes.

Liana had thought that Aiden was amazing; Monsieur Fantôme was ten times better. He danced as if he were on ice skates, and not in ballet slippers. He turned, he leaped, he bowed, he dipped, he dove, he…he danced. It was amazing.

Finally, as if it had all happened in a matter of seconds instead of minutes, the last verse of the Phantom rang through the air.

_Beyond the point of no return_…

Liana had but a second to stand up and shakily begin her choreography.

_You have brought me_…

Liana ran through the choreography as best as she could. She wanted so badly to sit and stare at him, who stood in the corner of the stage mysteriously, frozen in a pose.

_When will the flames at last consume us_…

Monsieur Fantôme's arms were around her in a second, doing exactly as he had taught Aiden and Liana.

Aiden. Aiden? Who was Aiden?

Liana did not care. She was there, with Monsieur Fantôme. They were dancing together, and neither of their eyes left the other.

They grabbed each other's hands and kicked off to the side, so that they looked like a giant pair of angel wings on the middle of the stage, and they could hear the "oohs!" and "aahs!" of the audience.

Liana was not even aware of the fact that there was an audience until that point.

_We've past the point of no return_…

And the song was over. The entire five minute song that had been choreographed, was over. And yet, his arms were still around her, his face in her hair. Liana smelled a musty scent, but it was nice, and enchanting, and not as repelling as one might thing.

Liana heard that familiar voice whisper in her ear, and she shivered in pleasure.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," he wasn't singing; he was asking. "Lead me, save me, from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you here, besides you. Anywhere you go let me go, too."

He paused, and let out a sigh, preparing for what he what was going to happen next. He believed that Liana was going to pull his mask off, to see what he looked like.

"Liana, that's all I ask of…you."

Instead, she turned around and stared straight into his eyes, still encased in his strong, muscular arms. She smiled a truly, genuinely, happy smile. Which he returned.

He leaned in toward her lips, like she had always wished he would, and he kissed her forehead, causing her heart to fall. Liana heard a small 'plop' next to her feet. She looked down, and saw a small rose, slowly being joined by more and more roses, and confetti.

Monsieur Fantôme nudged her with his nose, and she reluctantly turned around to acknowledge the audience. She stepped away from his warm body, and bowed to the roaring crowd. She did not care about them, though; she wanted to return to her Phantom. But when she turned around, he was gone.

Aiden had run out onto the stage in nothing but a pair of boxers, not caring who saw him. Liana stifled a giggle. He saw her, and ran to Liana, worry in his eyes. All of the other dancers hiding backstage were squealing in delight at seeing his perfect body.

"The performance is over?" he asked her quickly, putting his arms on his shoulders. "Liana, I am so sorry I missed…it…wait a second…who did you dance with?"

Liana, whose eyes had found a sudden interest on the wooden stage below her, slowly looked up into his pained eyes. She did not need to tell him who she had danced with. His body fell to the floor, resting on his knees, so that his face was eye-level with her tutu.

"Aiden, I…" But her voice trailed off. She did not know what to say to him. "I…"

He suddenly stood up, his eyes down casted to the floor. He only said one thing to her, and it was only but a whisper,

"Goodbye."

And then, he was gone. To him, she had not just simply danced with Monsieur Fantôme; she had chosen him. Liana covered her mouth and stopped a sob from escaping, and slowly turned around. The audience had become silent while they had been watching the events unfold, waiting.

She could not bear to see their expectant faces any longer, and she took off running, not looking back, not stopping until she was safely hidden behind the door to the girl's dorms.

A/N: Alright, I lied. I said this would be the last chapter, but I mean come ON! Look at the length! I haven't even gotten to the epic climax yet! So, I have stopped it here. For sho, the next chapter shall be the last.

Alright, my sister nearly peed herself reading this. So I hope I got the same reaction. Well, no, I kind of hope you guys did not pee yourselves. I just hope that you guys really enjoyed it, and thought that Monsieur Fantôme was the sexiest thing you have ever…read about? Yeah.

Tell me your thoughts! What did you think of this epic chapter? It felt a little rush, so I might possibly edit it later. Just leave a review, cause you know I love 'em!


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, but I DO own this new guy…and Liana…and Madame Bellamont…and Mademoiselle LaViola…and all those other characters that you do not recognize. They're mine. And I keep them in my closet. Enjoy!**

**WARNING: This is extremely long. And this is the end. May cause tears to flow.**

Liana remained curled up in a ball with her back slumped up against the old, wooden door. She was crying heavily, and trying hard to stop. But she just couldn't. Her heart was so badly torn.

Aiden…Monsieur Fantôme…Aiden… Monsieur Fantôme…who was the right choice?

Aiden was closer to her age. He was also an amazing dancer and very handsome.

Monsieur Fantôme on the other hand, was a few years older, but was also a handsome and amazing dancer.

The negative side to this argument that raged inside of her head was the fact that she hardly knew either of them. Sure, she had technically known Monsieur Fantôme longer, but it was still only a week.

Aiden was selfish…but at least she knew of his background. With Monsieur Fantôme, she knew absolutely nothing.

She shook her head and ran down the aisle of beds to her bed, and jumped on it to cry her eyes out some more. She squealed in pain and rolled towards the back of the bed. Her arm was bleeding. Liana looked down at her bed and saw that there was a red rose, fully bloomed and with its thorns still attached. It had a black ribbon tied around its center.

She carefully picked up the flower, and her heart fluttered. She knew exactly who this had come from.

"Oh, Monsieur Fantôme," she cried out desperately. "I don't know what to do! Please, help me!"

As if to answer her prayer, a hand came from behind and brushed itself underneath her chin, dragging her face along with it until she saw the beautiful, intense face of Monsieur Fantôme. He was still wearing Aiden's costume, and the mask still concealing his face.

Liana's eyes grew wide at the sight of him here, inside of her dorm. The fact of how he got in here, or how inappropriate it was that he was here, did not even phase her mesmerized mind. She was just thrilled to see him, happy to know that he had been listening.

His lips parted slight as he reached out and traced his hand down her arm, until it was entwined between her fingers. She stood up and followed him to the mirror, neither of them taking their eyes off of the other. He turned away for just a few seconds, long enough for him to press one of the intricate imprints on the edge of the mirror, and for him to see that the mirror had slid open.

Liana's mouth dropped, as she realized that was how he got in. That was how he had known she needed him.

Monsieur Fantôme touched her chin again, and slowly, delicately, closed her mouth. They began their journey into the mirror.

It was a dark, cold tunnel, with only a single lamp lit up on one side, which Monsieur Fantôme grabbed and brought along with us.

There were only a few things that had scared Liana ever since she was a child; zombies, and the dark. Her brother had forced her to watch "Night of the Living Dead" when she was five years old, and she couldn't get the idea of dead cannibals out of her head. Her other fear, she did not understand why she did not like it. Perhaps the mystery of the unknown, perhaps…she did not know. But this darkness was frightening to her.

Liana gasped and clung herself to Monsieur Fantôme, he looked down at her curiously and saw her scared expression. He smiled warmly at her, his blue eyes compelling, and he draped his arm across her shoulder. She felt better, safer.

Over five minutes had passed, and they had still not reached their destination. Liana did not care; she was with him. His presence made her shiver in delight uncontrollably, which he took as her being cold. He rubbed his warm hand up and down her arm to produce heat, and she was delighted to see his concern for her.

A light produced itself before her, as she saw an opening appear. They stepped out of the tunnel, and into a dreamland.

It was a cave, yes, but full of wondrous things. There was an organ against the wall, a large bed with a gold and white comforter, music and drawings sprawled out all over the room, and couches and chairs surrounding a large grandeur dining table. In the center of the room hung a small, yet brilliant chandelier that managed to illuminate the entire room.

"Excuse me for the mess, ma chere," he said suddenly, releasing Liana, much to her dismay. "But I normally do not receive guests in my abode."

Liana could not find her voice. She wanted to respond to him, say something intelligent, but found that she could not. She simply smiled at him.

Monsieur Fantôme nodded his head in return, and neither of them spoke for awhile. The two were obviously bashful in their present situation, and the unease in the air was thick as they tried to find a topic.

"I, erm, apologize for surprising you…on stage," he spoke suddenly, turning away from her and towards his organ. "But I…I couldn't stand to see you with him for another second. I took matters…into my own hands."

"Oh…uh…" Liana, once again, scrambled for something to say to him. "I see…then…then why did you, uh, want someone to dance with me in the first place?"

Success.

"Madame Bellamont advised me to do so," he answered after a brief pause, gazing over his shoulder at her. "She thought it would be better…so you would not…"

And he stopped, continuing to look at his organ.

"I would not, what?" Liana urged him, taking a step towards him.

And he whipped around, staring at her intensely.

"Oh, Christine," he whispered, coming towards her with outstretched arms.

When he reached her, she returned the embrace, but said, "Monsieur, my name is Liana, remember?"

He said nothing.

********

Aiden began violently throwing his belongings into the two suitcases that were lying on his bed. He was furious at her. She had chosen him. HIM. A man she did not even know, a man that could be a murderer for all they knew. If he was supposed to be this, 'phantom of the opera,' then he would in fact be a murderer. And he paused.

_She could be in danger…_

Immediately as it had come, he shook the thought out of his head and threw his ballet slippers on the top of the messy pile. He was now wearing clothes; the cool draft in the opera house finally got to him.

_Of course not,_ he thought to himself in a girly voice. _He is Monsieur Fantôme! He is amazing!_

He jam-packed both suitcases and tried, with much difficulty, to close them. As he finished the first one, there was a knock at his door.

"If this is Liana, I don't want to speak to you," he growled, not looking away from what he was doing.

He heard the door unlocked, and turned around to protest when he saw Madame Bellamont enter through the door, holding an old-fashioned candle in her hand.

"Oh," he murmured. "It's just you."

"Aiden!" she shouted at him, out of breath. She seemed relieved to see him. "Aiden, Liana is in trouble!"

He snorted at her. "Yeah, right. Isn't she bowing to her many adoring fans?" he asked her crudely. "Or is she with Monsieur Fantôme as we speak?"

"I believe it iz the latter," she answered, completely missing the sarcasm. She set the candle down on his end table.

"Oh yes, she's totally in danger." He rolled his eyes.

"No, you do not understand, monsieur," she cried out desperately, putting a hand on his suitcase, stopping his actions. He looked at her, fed up. "Monsieur Fantôme iz not who he seemz."

This got his attention. "What do you mean?"

"'e truly believes zat 'e iz the phantom of the opera," she explained to him, hurriedly. "One minute, 'e iz a normal man, and the next…he iz a completely different person. It iz possible that he could hurt Liana, if she rejects 'im."

"But she won't reject him," he answered quietly, pushing her arm off of the suitcase and returning to his work. "She loves him."

"No, no," she continued, taking him by the shoulders. "She only _thinks_ zat she iz in love with 'im. She iz in love with what 'e represents. She iz in love with the story. If she was with 'im for a longer period of time, and really with 'im…"

Madame Bellamont covered her mouth in fear, allowing a sob to escape her mouth.

"She's really in trouble, then?" Aiden asked her seriously. Madame nodded her head. "Then take me to her."

********

Monsieur Fantôme was squeezing Liana tightly, not ever wanting to let her go. She cried out in pain.

"Monsieur, you're hurting me," she told him, and tried to push away. He wouldn't budge.

"How long I have waited for this moment, my dear Christine," he said to her, stroking her hair. "Now, I will not ever let you go."

Now Liana was truly frightened.

It was not until moments later until he had finally let her go. He grabbed her hands and stared into her eyes, forcefully.

She recalled that this was like her dream, except this time, she had fear in her eyes and he, lust. She did not understand how things could have gone so wrong. She was supposed to be happy now. She was supposed to stay with Monsieur Fantôme for forever. Now, she was hoping that Aiden would burst in right now, and save her.

He was mumbling incoherently now, something about the angel of music, Christine, the opera house…and she could not discern the rest.

"Monsieur Fantôme," she begged and pleaded with him. "Please, stop!"

Once again, she tried to escape his grip, but it was iron tight.

"Christine I love you!" he sang to her, his eyes flashing. He leaned in to kiss her, and she screamed.

He put his hands on her face to hold her steady, and she did likewise onto his, but instead pushing him away. And then, his mask came off.

Monsieur Fantôme pushed her to the ground, and she scraped her already scratched arms on the cold, rough ground. He was covering his face, and backing away from her.

"I trusted you," he screamed. "I thought you loved me! But then you betrayed me! What is wrong with me? Is it my face? Is that it?"

He picked her up by her leotard and brought her face close to his, and he removed his hands from his face….and she saw him. And there was…

…absolutely nothing wrong with him. No scars, no abhorrent, decaying skin, just a normal, smooth, handsome face.

Liana was confused. "But Monsieur," she began. "There is nothing wrong with your face."

"Liar!" he snarled, throwing her back onto the ground. "Everyone has feared me, hated me, because of my face. No one gave me a chance…"

He began ranting again, and Liana tried to scramble away from him. He blocked her path.

"There is no leaving now," he told her fiercely. "I told you, I will never let you go."

Tears were streaming down her face once again. She was so terrified. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring…a wedding ring. He reached out to grab her hand, and she tried her best to escape his grasp.

"What has happened to you?" she cried. "You are not the same man who taught me to dance!"

"Dance?" he yelled. "I taught you to _sing_! You are no dancer."

And then realization dawned on her. He thought that he was THE Phantom. The one from the story. And he also thought that she was his Christine.

"Oh no," she whispered, hand covering her mouth. "Oh no…"

"Liana!" someone cried out from the tunnel.

Liana looked up hopefully, and there stood Aiden. She had never felt so happy and relieved in her entire life. She started for him, but her arm was yanked back.

"Oh no, Raoul, you can't have her," Monsieur Fantôme said to Aiden, shaking his head and his face seething with anger. "You already had your chance. Now she comes to me."

"Dude, you're not the Phantom," Aiden retorted, crossing his arms and shaking his head as well. "Your face isn't even messed up! You're just messed up in the head."

If one had thought that he was angry before, Monsieur Fantôme was ten times worse now. His arms were shaking so hard that Liana began to feel the tremors.

"Alright, boy," he growled. "It's time to end this…_now_."

He threw Liana to the ground for the third time, and she took this as a chance to run into the welcoming arms of Aiden.

"Oh my God," she said into his chest. He rocked her side to side, and rubbed her back in an attempt to soothe her, but he knew she would not relax until she was out of this nightmare.

"It's fine, you'll be out of here soon – ARGH!" Aiden cried out in pain as Monsieur Fantôme sliced his shoulder with an ancient sword.

Liana screamed and pulled Aiden away, trying to protect him from Monsieur Fantôme. Aiden was bleeding, badly. He could not fight Monsieur Fantôme in this condition.

"Please, leave him be!" she pleaded with him. "I'll stay with you, just leave him alone!"

Monsieur Fantôme gave her a pained look, and appeared as if he was ready to drop the sword. Aiden looked up at her in surprise.

"You will…stay…with me?" Monsieur asked her quietly, and Liana nodded her head.

A clang rung throughout the cave as the sword hit the floor, and he reached out for her, a calm, serene smile returning to his face.

"Come, my angel…"

Liana looked down at Aiden, who was shaking his head at her, and then stepped away from him. Aiden grabbed for her, trying to force her to stay and not go with the mad man. But she didn't. Aiden's heart was broken once more.

Monsieur Fantôme gently pulled Liana into his arms, and slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

"Stop!" another voice rang out from the entrance.

Madame Bellamont had stepped in from the darkness.

"Madame Giry!" Monsieur Fantôme cried out.

"No, Derek," she began with a sigh, stepping further into the cave. "I am not Madame Giry. I am Madame Bellamont."

"Derek?" he asked curiously. His face contorted, as if the name were familiar. "There is no Derek here…only the opera ghost."

He squeezed Liana harder into his chest protectively, as if Madame would want to steal her away. Madame Bellamont bent down to see Aiden, and then she whispered something into his ear.

"What are you telling him?" Monsieur demanded. "No secrets shall be shared within my domain!"

He quickly reached down onto the ground to retrieve his sword, with Liana still in his arm, and shoved it in front of Madame's face. She sighed, and held her arms up in surrender. She backed away from Aiden and tried once again to reason with Monsieur Fantôme.

"Monsieur Fantôme is no opera ghost," she began quietly, breathing calmly and evenly, as if she had done this many times before. "He is a former dancer, Derek Lomar. He was an American dancer not too long ago, one of the, if not the, greatest, but he was not allowed to perform anymore when he attacked a fellow dancer. He escaped to this opera house eight years ago."

"What?!" Liana shrieked, struggling even harder against Monsieur Fantôme's strong arms.

"What are you going on about, Madame?" Monsieur Fantôme demanded angrily, although Liana could see him lower his sword slightly.

Liana felt sick to her stomach. Madame Bellamont had allowed her to live in this dream, this fantasy world, and just stood by and watched as it began to come crashing down on her. She looked at Monsieur Fantôme incredulously, with hate in her eyes.

"Do not blame 'im, Liana," Madame Bellamont soothed, not dropping eye contact from Monsieur Fantôme. "'e 'as a multiple personality disorder. 'e truly believes that 'e iz the Phantom of the Opera."

"I am the Phantom of the Op-" But before Monsieur Fantôme could complete his sentence, something hit him in the middle of his face. For the briefest second, Liana was set free, and she took off towards Aiden with lightning fast speed.

Aiden was standing up, holding his injured arm, with a second rock in his hand, preparing to launch it at Monsieur Fantôme. His face was intense.

"Aiden!" Liana cried out, jumping into his arms.

She saw him clench his teeth, and stepped away from his arm.

"Sorry," she said weakly, never so happy to see him in her entire life. She was shaking uncontrollably.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, glancing at the scene in front of him.

Monsieur Fantôme had already stood up, and they could see blood coming from his nose along with a large gash above it. Madame Bellamont ran up to prevent him from stampeding the two, only to be shoved into the wall and become unconscious.

"Hey, ugly," Aiden shouted out, earning him a slap on the arm from Liana.

"Do not make him any angrier than he already is," she whispered to him, ignoring his cry.

"The only way to beat him is to follow the story line," he retorted, gazing desperately into her eyes. "Kiss…kiss him."

Liana looked taken back. She shook her head, bewildered, and refused. Of course, days ago, hours ago, she would have loved the very idea, but not anymore. Not when she discovered what a monster he was on the inside.

"Do it, for our sakes," Aiden commanded, resting his uninjured arm on her shoulder, and kissing her lightly on the cheek. "If he believes that he is the Phantom, then this should work."

Liana held back a sob and nodded her head. Delicately, she walked over to Monsieur Fantôme and stared directly into his eyes. He had lowered his sword somewhat, but his eyes still held anger, a sea of rage. She brought her hand up and brushed the side of his face, which he responded by closing his eyes in ecstasy. The sword slowly lowered to the ground.

_Please let this work._ Liana prayed to herself and leaned in to do the unthinkable.

She kissed him lightly, on his soft pink lips. In her imagination, she had constantly saw herself doing exactly as she was doing now. Of course, her imagination also consisted of the two of them on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower, but still. She imagined sparks around the two of them, church bells ringing, and a fire to go through both of their bodies.

This time, in reality, she felt…nothing. Only that she was kissing a desperate man, who frantically needed someone to love him, to take care of him, to need him as much as he needed someone. A tear slipped down her cheek.

When they pulled away, he looked at her strangely, curiously, and then brought his fingers to his lips, as if to feel the kiss still there. His lips curled into his mouth and he fell to the floor.

Monsieur Fantôme's hands went to his face and his eyes widened in horror. He looked around himself, and then up at Liana. He shook his head in fear.

"Liana, I…" He did not know what to say to her. All of the horrible things that she had just experienced…they must have been unbearable.

He saw her for the first time since the recital, and saw that she was terrified. Her body was shaking, her costume was destroyed, her arm was bleeding, and she was looking at him as if he were a monster.

"Dear God," he whispered as he saw Madame Bellamont to his right, lying on the ground and unconscious.

"Derek…my name is Derek…" he mumbled to himself, all traces of his former anger gone completely. "I am not the Phantom. I am Derek."

He stood up suddenly, and stared at Liana miserably, knowing that he had lost her for forever. She would never again feel the same things that the two had shared over the past week.

"Go," he told her quietly, gazing down at the floor. "Please, go. Before I cause you any more misery."

Liana did not move. She stared at him, seeing Monsieur Fantôme once more, and the butterflies returned to her heart.

"Monsieur Fantôme," she began, not sure how to finish her statement, but he still looked up at her with his sea blue eyes, full of pain.

"No, you do not deserve me," he told her with a small smile playing on his lips. "Get out."

"But sir-"

"Get out!" he yelled, his face contorting in pain and rage. He pointed towards the cave exit.

Liana jumped slightly, and then ran over to Aiden, who was gripping the cave wall and watching the scene incredulously.

"I can't believe that worked," he said mostly to himself.

"You mean you were bluffing?" Liana whispered to him, glancing back at Monsieur Fantôme.

"Hey, it was the only plan I could think of," Aiden said with a shrug, trying to lift the stuffy mood.

Liana placed Aiden on her shoulder, and helped her weak love out of the cave. She stopped at the very entrance, and turned around to look one more time at Monsieur Fantôme, and then continued on.

She did not care about what had just unfolded. She knew the man that she loved.

Derek Lomar watched the two disappear into the shadow, and smiled. He wanted her to be angry with him now, just so that she would never want to see him again. But he underestimated her. She was the most unique girl he had ever met.

He gazed down at Madame Bellamont and decided to pick her up. He carried her away to his bed shoved in the corner of the cave. He would have to apologize to her as soon as she woke.

Derek was angry with himself. He had allowed his other side to take over, and he should have known better. He was the better dancer, Derek knew that, but he was also the one with the terrible temper, and tonight had proved just that. He had lost her. He had lost Liana. He would never let something as terrible as this happen again.

********

Five years had passed, and Derek had come out of hiding. He had taken up a residence in the opera house, but not in a cave. He was allowed to teach ballet classes to anyone willing to be taught, but he himself had never returned to the world of dance.

After the world had found out about his attack on a fellow dancer, Derek had been embarrassed and fled to Paris, taking refuge inside the opera house. Madame Bellamont had so graciously taken him in and followed everything that he had asked of her, even when the other side of him appeared.

He was getting counseling and seeing a therapist, trying earnestly to get rid of his other half. The one who had destroyed all his chances at happiness. He had not heard from the other side of himself in such a long time.

Derek had not seen Liana since that night, not in person, at least. She was now an official ballet dancer, participating in many Broadway shows, including The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake, and the Phantom of the Opera…

He only watched her from afar. He was slightly happy to see that occasionally, Aiden Peirce would be her counterpart. The prince, mostly, naturally. But he never heard much more of them being together. One would think that the news would be all over something like that.

Derek was in the auditorium, making last minute preparations for the recital, where a new set of girls were going to perform, when he heard footsteps from behind.

Derek turned around and saw a young woman of 20, perhaps 21, with long brown hair and pale skin. He recognized her immediately.

"Li, Liana," he cried out, taking a step back and almost falling into the orchestra pit.

It was true. Liana had returned. She had aged beautifully; bloomed into a fully grown woman.

"Hello, Monsieur Fantôme," she said, smiling at him.

She took a step closer until she was standing face to face with him. She put her hands around his face, and Derek did not know what to do. He allowed her to do anything she wanted with him. And he did.

Liana pulled his face in closer to hers and kissed him. And this time, sparks were flying.

A/N: Sniff, so guys this is the end. I am so sorry if it sucked. I knew how I wanted to end this, but I just couldn't put it into words. But I thought it turned out alright. Hey, the Phantom got the girl! Even if it did not seem like it would happen.

I was going to write an epilogue, where she appeared in his life again, but decided against it. It's already a full chapter longer than it was supposed to be.

Tell me what you liked, what you hated, and so on. Criticism (polite criticism, mind you) is always welcome.

Farewell, my loving, adoring fans! Stay tuned for future stories of mine!


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